


open hand or closed fist would be fine,

by fuckingkinney



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Eventual Smut, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, tags to be updated as the series goes on, well... I guess not considering the new trailer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-03 01:13:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10956600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckingkinney/pseuds/fuckingkinney
Summary: It had been one year, three months, and nineteen days since
Harry Hart had died.It had been four months and seven days since the new Arthur
was appointed.





	open hand or closed fist would be fine,

**Author's Note:**

> I am _meant_ to be writing another fic, but I got absorbed into the Kingsman fandom and I desperately wanted to write something for Harry/Eggsy. 
> 
> This isn't proofread/beta'd in the slightest. 
> 
> Nothing to be tagged as of yet, but I'll update the tags and make a note at the top of each chapter if that changes.

It’s been a year, three months and nineteen days. 

Not that Eggsy has kept count, of course. 

Why would he waste his time doing that, when there were more important things to be done? Missions to focus his attention on, as a clock ticked away at the back of his mind. Every second was time that had passed since Harry Hart had been shot, dying with nothing for Eggsy to do but watch on the screen before him and yell into the silence of the deceased man’s house.

When all had been said and done, the world saved and everything, Eggsy hadn’t known what to do with himself. He’d buried himself in mission after mission, as many as Merlin would give him, and that was that.

He’d ignored the ache in his chest, grit his teeth and smiled through the pain, and that was that.

A new Arthur was reassigned, somewhere along the way. 

Merlin hadn’t looked entirely _pleased_ about the fact – but that was probably because of how much Eggsy nagged him as to when he’d be able to meet the bloke… or woman, given the _look_ that Roxy had given him after the question. They’d only been told that _when the time was right, they’d meet_.

Eggsy had been given the title of Galahad and he’d ignored the burn in his eyes as Merlin told him that, too. Roxy no longer at his side to help, off on a mission somewhere in the world that he’d not had time to read over given that he’d barely been back from a mission of his own.

Saving the world was a full-time job. Apparently, he needed the name to be able to do so.

It felt _wrong_. Like a suit that was bought without tailoring first, something that he never would have given a second thought of until _Harry_.

Harry heart that came into his life and fucked it all up in an attempt to try and make it better.

That made his chest ache with emotions that he hadn’t thought to be fucking possible, until it was too late and he’d choked on his own tears at the realisation that Harry Hart was fucking dead.

He was a gentleman now, but it felt pointless. Hopeless. 

He felt like he was drowning, sucked beneath a current that no amount of kicking and trashing would release him from it’s grip. Mother nature was always a bitch, that was a given. It was something differently entirely to have his own feelings turn against him, an emotion thick in his chest that made him think that he would prefer the idea of drowning.

\--

It had been one year, three months, and nineteen days since Harry Hart had died.

It had been four months and seven days since the new Arthur was appointed. 

Roxy hadn’t given away whether or not _she_ had met him yet – there had been confirmation that Arthur was a _he_ , much to Roxy’s chargin – but there had been a sad look in her eye when he asked. Eggsy had pressed teeth into his tongue to stop himself from asking anything else.

Four months and seven days was _ridiculous_ , he realised, when Merlin finally told him that it was time. That he finally got to meet the new, secretive Arthur that no one knew a thing about.

“ _Eggsy_!” Roxy called after him, and there’s a distinct sound of heels scuttling across the floor as Eggsy bowls on forward, too impatient to wait. 

“Come _on_ , Rox. Don’t want to disappoint now, do we?”

A threat of a grin on his face, interest having grown to a point that couldn’t be reeled back in, and he pushed forward through double doors. The sound of heels faded into the background and he was vaguely aware of a hand against his shoulder, a voice against his ear.

Eggsy didn’t hear any of it.

There he sat, at the head of the table, as though no time had passed at all.

As though he hadn’t been dead – _presumed dead_ – the entire time. 

As though Eggsy hadn’t been lied to this entire time. 

A throat cleared in the corner of the room and it was only then that Eggsy realised that Merlin was stood there, waiting, a tablet balanced on one hand.

_How long had Merlin known?_

“Eggsy,” Roxy whispers again, voice quiet, waiting.

Eggsy doesn’t know what he looks like, but he fears for the worst given that Harry has risen to a stand, the curl of a smile on his face no longer present as he takes long, elegant strides towards them both. 

No, Eggsy thinks, and there’s the threat of hysteria within him. _No. This isn’t real_.

This cannot be real.

“Galahad,” is the first thing that the man says, his new _Arthur_ , and there’s something close to concern in his eyes.

How long had he been standing there now? How long had they been staring at each other?

Eggsy takes a step forward and there’s a gasp ringing out from behind him.

He only realises that he’s punched the man when Harry stumbles back a step, a hand on his nose, and an ache blooms in his hand. 

“That’s enough!” Merlin’s voice cuts through and there are arms around him, Roxy’s, pulling him away, trying to keep him grounded into the nearest seat. 

It feels deserved, Eggsy thinks before he can stop himself, as much as he knows that’s a lie. He’d never meant to do it; the act itself an accident, his body moving before his mind could process, a part of him tempted to _touch_ just to see if it was real.

He’d punched him in the face instead and Eggsy wanted to fucking laugh.

He wanted to cry. 

He wanted to scream.

Instead he settled for neither as Roxy shoves him into a seat, rising up with the threat of a snarl on his features. “Get the fuck off me, Rox!” 

Gone are formalities, the _knowing_ that he should be able to reign himself better in than this. It’s his entire job as a Kingsman. He is meant to go with the practical route, the one that involves thought over feeling – as much as Eggsy may break that, Merlin tutting in his ear, those times were usually for the better.

Those times were nothing quite like this.

Roxy takes a step backwards, two, until there is enough space between them… only it’s not _enough_. He feels like he can’t breathe and he steps on the heel of his shoes, turns and _runs_.

Voices call after him, loud and insistent, and Eggsy doesn’t know how he manages to get so far – out of the doors, across the fields, the gates – before he drops. Knees crunching against the gravel on the floor, air stolen from his lungs, and he _sobs_.


End file.
